A Moon Undarkened
by AvocadoGoddess
Summary: Jannali didn't believe in fate. She would look back, at the end, and pray for the girl she used to be, wish that it had been different. She refused to bend, and so she shattered.
1. Prologue

Jannali decided to die on the day she discovered the truth.

Ghost Queen, they called her. A shadow of what they all were. She even looked the part: her pale skin and hair were nothing short of ethereal. She seemed to float, not walk, skimming through the corridors of the palace with the air of one who was not entirely sure where she was going.

She remembered giving birth to two daughters.

She could not remember their names.

She recalled a time when she had been lively and free-spirited, a time before she met him.

He had used her. It made her sick to think about - the fact that she'd been used as nothing more than a means to an end.

No one would believe her, she knew that. No one would believe that it could be possible.

But Jannali knew.

And so she found someone willing to do it. It would be easy, she told them. The bioelectricity of shells could not be manipulated.

If only she had been a shell.

Two lives. Two deaths.

She had sealed her fate.

It was poetic, in a way. As if she were truly in control of her story for once. No - not poetic. Ironic. Ironic, that she'd been manipulated her entire life, and now, the one thing she had control over was her death.

Jannali appreciated the irony. It offered her a twisted source of comfort.

She was strangely calm in the hours preceding her death. Onlookers later recalled that she had laughed for the first time in years. They remembered how she seemed strangely free.

Looking back, people would use the word "fey" to describe her.

It was as if the Ghost Queen had finally come alive.

* * *

Jannali had few regrets.

She regretted not knowing her daughters. If she had spent time with them, had tried harder, it could have been different.

She did not want to leave them.

The older one would be queen; Jannali did not trust her.

The younger one was scheming, manipulative; Jannali did not trust her either.

She wished she had struggled harder.

She regretted her weakness. It had been her weakness that started it all.

She could not control the weakness, but she should have hidden it better.

She regretted not being the one to kill Marrok. She would have reveled in it. Gloried in giving him exactly what he deserved.

But she knew. She could not live after him.

They must die together.

Jannali had few regrets, yet dying was not one of them.

She regretted that no one would know her story afterwards. No one would know the story of the Ghost Queen. She would exist in people's memories as she had existed in reality: a shadow, a reminder of a dark time.

She was, of course, right.

No one missed the Ghost Queen.

No one would know her story.

Yet she had won in the end.

The Ghost Queen died triumphant.


	2. Chapter 1

When Jannali was born, before her story and mistakes and most importantly, her love, the stars foretold a tragedy.

From baby Marrok's window, one had a dismal view - from every other window in the palace, the views were nothing short of breathtaking.

Baby Jannali had laughed, not cried.

Marrok had been so quiet, people often forgot he was there.

Jannali's parents were Artemisian aristocrats held in high regard. They did not care much for their baby daughter.

Marrok was the heir to the throne, his parents royalty. It was well-known that his parents didn't have much use for him, or for small children in general.

The two of them had that in common, at least.

* * *

Luna's youngest-ever diplomat hadn't had very much time in her life to make many mistakes, but she figured that with this one, she'd make up for any missed opportunities.

Closing her eyes, she counted to ten in her head to keep from swearing.

She swore anyway.

A lightning-strike of pain swept its way from her right ankle to the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach. Keeping one clammy hand latched onto the gleaming crystal bannister, she fisted the other in the folds of her iridescent evening gown.

Obviously, walking wasn't in the realm of the possible right now.

Executing a clumsy quarter-turn away from the royal balcony which she had so dramatically fled, she leaned her weight on the cool stone railing and assumed the expression of one who was not only unimpressed, but magnificently bored at the same time. Taking care not to drop the expression, Jannali allowed her gaze to wander over the crowd below.

Not for no reason was Artemisia also called the Shining City. True, the outside of the palace was largely the same sleek, obsidian regolith as most other buildings. But when set against the setting sun, the crystalline embellishments and gargantuan windows set the palace afire. Indeed, on the inside, clear, dazzling stones were inset everywhere, lending the palace an otherworldly, ethereal look.

And the people were just as beautiful.

As beautiful as the crystals, Jannali knew, but also as empty and hard and sharp as well.

Seas of silk and chiffon floated within the ballroom, as Artemisian aristocrats swayed along with the music on the floor below, less like humans and more like richly-decorated butterflies. Flashes of colors and jewels she couldn't even name seemed to assault her senses.

Of course, almost none of it would be real. Everything was fake here, all illusions, just like the light refracting through the millions of crystals. Just glamours, albeit whimsical, fantastical ones. Compared to most of the outfits surrounding her, Jannali's was downright simple. She glanced upwards again to the royal balcony, where the glamours were even more richly colored - outlandish, even.

Jannali shook herself out of her trance. She needed a way to get down the stairs without collapsing and making a complete fool of herself.

 _You've already made a fool of yourself,_ she chided, _now it's time for damage control_.

Her gaze snagged on a head of silvery blonde hair almost directly below.

 _There you are._

The girl was seemingly deep in conversation, holding a wine glass filled with some sort of shimmery pearlescent liquid.

Jannali pondered the ways in which she could notify the girl of the situation at hand. Making a noise of some sort would attract far more attention than necessary, and there was no way to physically move around to capture the girl's attention without extreme pain on Jannali's part.

Her gaze fell thoughtfully on her pearl pinky ring, a delicate affair that had once been her mother's. It wasn't that the ring held any real sentimental value to Jannali because of that, but it was the sort of story that very drunk Artemisian ladies tended to coo at, allowing her to make hasty exits.

Slipping the ring off her finger, she estimated the approximate distance she'd have to toss it and gave a few experimental, and hopefully inconspicuous, wrist flicks.

She just hoped that Iolani stayed still.

With an exhale and a toss, the tiny pearl ring was sent on its way downward.

Jannali attempted to crane her neck while attracting no attention, trying valiantly to see the ring's final landing place.

With an internal shout of victory (and an external violent wobble as her right ankle betrayed her once again), she saw the ring land with an anticlimactic little _ploosh_ , perfectly into the pearl liquid in the wine glass. Jannali sent a thank-you to whichever star had gifted her with wonderful hand-eye coordination.

The girl looked at her wine glass, bemused. Her expression quickly gave way to one of sly understanding, as she fished the ring out with her pinky.

Jannali saw her make a brisk apology and excuse to the nobleman she'd been talking to and turn toward the staircase.

She could tell the exact moment Iolani saw her, partially because of the spark in her violet eyes (striking, whether they were products of glamour or not) at the moment of recognition but also because of the very rude gesture she made in Jannali's direction.

Jannali laughed, glee welling up inside her. Iolani made her way up the staircase, holding her glass in one hand and the pearl ring in the other.

"You looked distressed," Jannali informed her, "so I decided you needed rescuing."

"I was talking to a Dubrovsky, Jannali. I think distressed is the typical reaction." Iolani held out the hand with the ring while lifting the glass to her lips. "Anyway, that was a terrible rescue plan. I'm shocked that you actually made it into the glass."

Slipping the ring (now significantly more shimmery) onto her finger, Jannali laughed. "Did you underestimate me? I'm wounded, Iolani. Our friendship may never recover."

Iolani made a dismissive noise. "Pray tell, why did you tear me away from my scintillating conversation?"

Jannali lifted her skirt just enough so that Iolani could catch a glimpse of her swollen, disfigured ankle. "I may or may not have gotten into a slight accident."

To her credit, Iolani only winced and muttered something about 'irresponsible aristocratic nuisances'. Wrapping her arm around Jannali and acting as a crutch, she began leading her down the staircase. "Of course," she shook her head mock-disapprovingly, "I leave you alone for half an hour and you go and get yourself grievously injured. How exactly did you maim yourself this time?"

"Marrok attempted to engage me in," here Jannali let out a sharp exhale, digging her fingers into her friend's shoulder, "conversation, but to tell you the truth, I'd rather - stars, Iolani, why are you moving so _quickly_?"

They had made a discreet exit through a side hallway that would lead to the palace's Ascella Wing, where the highest-ranking nobles and thaumaturges resided.

Coming to a halt, Iolani bent down, gently prodding the swollen joint with practiced fingers. "You twisted it pretty badly, you know. Did you fall?"

"Apparently running down polished glass steps in heels isn't the best idea I've had. Yes, I fell, in front of the _entire_ royal balcony. I've never seen Theon Mira look so smug."

"All this," Iolani stood up and motioned for Jannali to ride piggyback the rest of the way, "to avoid a simple conversation?"

Jannali frowned at the back Iolani presented, ignoring the question. "I am not riding piggyback."

"It's either this or stay right here. Even using me as a crutch isn't working for you," Iolani made an impatient gesture, "so hurry up before a servant comes along and wonders what on earth we're dong."

Attempting to salvage what dignity remained, Jannali maneuvered herself onto Iolani's back. "Anyway, Marrok is just... _disturbing_. He gives me the creeps."

"Careful, love, pretty sure that's enough to get you executed for treason."

Jannali scoffed. "Better a cruel truth than a comfortable - ouch, Lani, stop _bumping_."

Disregarding her rider's complaints, Iolani quickened her steps, bringing them to an abrupt halt in front of the first of a series of doors lining the extravagant hallway: "Face."

With some maneuvering on Iolani's part, Jannali managed to get her face in front of the retinal scanner and open the ornate, crystalline door.

Once inside, Iolani unceremoniously dumped the injured girl on a neatly made bed and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom to hunt for bandages.

Jannali shut her eyes against the throbbing pain of her ankle and determinedly focused on interplanetary policy.

Three spaceships would be on their way to Earth in exactly thirty-six hours - two of which would carry the king's most trusted advisors along with the Earthen diplomats, and one which would carry Emrys and Marrok Blackburn and the highest-ranking thaumaturges.

She herself would be on one of them; Iolani on another.

Not that Lani really fulfilled any of those roles; she was simply a ward of the palace, after her parents had been killed - murdered, the whispers said, by the king himself - when she was a mere child. Emrys, it was said, had taken pity on the girl, allowing her to grow up with the full privileges of an aristocrat, and, perhaps, more freedom, seeing as she answered only to him.

"Found it," Iolani tossed her a bandage and a pressure-activated ice pack.

"Is there pain medication there too?"

"Didn't see any," she began heading out the door. "Want me to look for some on the way?"

"Where are you going?"

"I need a drink," Iolani said wryly. "Should I bring one back for you? Or will your loving parents object?"

"The likelihood of my parents being sober enough to give a rat's bum about me is smaller than Marrok's-"

"I think it'd be in both of our best interests if you stopped right there," Iolani cut her off.

"I might've been about to say _sense of compassion_ , or _humanity_ , or anything like that. Stars, you have a dirty mind, Lani."

Lani remained silent, an expression of extreme disbelief etched onto her face.

"Alright, fine," Jannali sighed, " but remind me, why are we friends? You obviously have no sense of humor."

Ignoring her, Iolani motioned for the bandages. "Let me wrap your ankle before I go."

"Thank you, Lani," Jannali drew the syllable out, tangling her fingers in her friend's hair.

Lani snorted, her fingers deftly drawing the material out and around the limb. "Good timing, too. Right before the - and I quote King Emrys - diplomatic mission that will ensure Luna's prosperity and future? Some diplomat you're shaping up to be."

"You know, I really don't think now is the time for your negativity and judgement," Jannali pursed her lips in a mockery of her father.

"I guess I'll just make a hasty exit then," Iolani gave the ends of the bandage a final tug. "Ice that," she ordered, "and lift your foot up on a pillow or something. I'll be back."

Jannali obediently propped her foot up and leaned back against her headboard, listening to Iolani's retreating footsteps. She whacked the ice pack against the side of her bed a few times to kick-start the process, then wrapped it around her ankle.

Sighing, Jannali shut her eyes again, focusing on what Theon Mira had said only a day ago during the last Diplomatic Council meeting.

 _Earthens are not like us. They hide behind their self-righteous masks. They will do horrible things and refuse to acknowledge them. They will say that they were justified. They won't trust any of us, because of our gifts. They will fear us, and fear makes them irrational. Be careful._

 _It was almost too melodramatic to take seriously_ , Jannali thought. Could none of them see the hypocrisy? It was as if their glamours and gaslighting had worked too well, as if no one could tell what was real anymore, least of all the people in control. Not seeing the forest for the trees, or something. Did that apply?

Jannali didn't feel like going into semantics - banishing all thoughts of trees and forests, she -

 _Trees._

She blinked.

 _She would be going to Earth for the first time._

 _She would see trees for the first time._

 _Trees. And oceans. And animals, beautiful ones, not the disease-ridden scavengers that infested the streets of the outer sectors. Everything like she'd seen in the pictures that her eyes feasted on greedily, hungry for color and life._

She shivered, at once excited and frightened by the thought of being surrounded by - being encased in, _absorbed_ by- all that beauty.

 _Quiet_ , she told herself, _sleep_.

And so she did.

* * *

Jannali was rudely awakened not an hour later by a faceful of cat hair. Groaning unintelligibly, she lifted the intruder off her head and glared at it balefully.

Mibs, being a cat, glared balefully back at her.

"Iolani," she muttered, "why would you let Mibs in the room? You _know_ she sits on my face when I'm asleep."

"Excuse you, Moira Hildegard Bartleby VII does not wait for permission from peasants like you and I," Iolani triumphantly brandished two glasses of a glowing, golden liquid, handing one to Jannali.

"What even is this?" Jannali asked. The liquid seemed to pulse of its own accord, sloshing in tiny ripples up against the sides of the cup, but never spilling. "Are you trying to give me drugs? Is that why you took so long?"

"No, idiot. Your mom roped me into an insanely long conversation and then gave these to me when I said you weren't feeling well."

Jannali snorted. "I would bet money that whatever this happens to be is also what everyone else in that ballroom is drunk out of their minds on right now."

"Good point. We probably shouldn't try it out after last time."

They shuddered in unison. Artemisian drinks were not for those who wished to retain their sanity, faith in humanity, or for the generally faint of heart.

They placed the glasses on the bedside table, treating them with the caution one gives to a sleeping, possibly dangerous animal.

Of course, the most dangerous animal they'd been around had been Mibs, as Luna had a dearth of animals to begin with, although Mibs was not to be taken lightly. (In fact, Mibs was single handedly - or perhaps, single pawedly? - responsible for the now strictly enforced rule regarding rubber objects and Cheezey Whingers™ during ceremonial rites.)

Regardless, neither Iolani nor Jannali wanted to test their luck, and so the glasses stayed well outside of Accidentally-Knocking-Over-With-Flailing-Arms distance.

"Your ice pack must be completely warm by now," Iolani picked it up and tossed it onto the ground, very nearly missing a hissing Mibs, who sprung up onto the bed.

Jannali sighed. "I should probably change out of this dress if I want to actually get any sleep."

"Probably," agreed Iolani. "That and the fact that the dress probably worth more than your entire life now has cat hair all over it."

Swearing, Jannali pushed herself to a seated position. Indeed, Mibs' distinctive calico hairs were scattered over the gown, probably already permanently sealed to it using whatever illegal magic graces the fur of all felines (except sphynx cats, of course, but they are less 'contemptuous, chaotic neutral multidimensional beings' and more 'goblin forms of possibly malevolent but most likely just overworked shapeshifters').

Mibs purred contentedly from her perch on the pillows like an overcharged electric razor on steroids.

Jannali scowled.

Iolani laughed. "Alrighty, I think we'll all feel better once we change into pajamas. What about you, Mibs? Would you like your fuzzy blanket?"

There was a silence as the two girls turned around just in time to see Mibs dip her face in Iolani's glass and lick the last drops of the questionable drink from her whiskers.

* * *

In the end, they took turns changing so that they could watch over Mibs, "just in case something strange happens". After all, neither of them knew the effects of the drink on humans, whether it would affect a small, eight pound cat similarly, or how to deal with said drunken cat.

Mibs did not, however, seem to be experiencing any adverse effects. Indeed, she attempted to drink the liquid still shimmering in Jannali's glass twice before Iolani picked it up and in a single motion, flung it bodily from the window.

This, as it would later be discovered, wasn't perhaps the best of choices. The fluid, a powerful hallucinogen (one which didn't work on cats, whom one can only imagine resist the effects by sheer force of will and obstinacy) fell into a small reflecting pond in which lived a small school of ornamental fish. Unfortunately, this had a very big effect on such very small organisms; they decided they needed a system of self-government and several short lived civil wars followed while they argued over whether an aristocratic government truly had the good of the people in mind when making decisions. Many casualties were incurred and the caretakers of the grounds were puzzled by the newly-developed cannibalism of their once-peaceful fish.

Of course, neither Iolani nor Jannali knew this at the time. They had simply managed to drowse off next to each other in Jannali's bed, a disgruntled Mibs between them and the jittery anticipation of days to come filling their thoughts and dreams.

* * *

 **A/N: Oooooooof. I know I said I'd write this over the summer, but I'm obviously a total liar. What else is new? Anyway, I wanted to get back into writing, so I decided to finally get this started, even though school has been ramping up. I may actually be motivated enough to actually post a second full length chapter by the end of this month, which would be a miracle. But please review and give me feedback! I've always thought that Jannali's story had to have more to it, and I wanted to give her more depth than she had. This will be canon-compliant (although I may forget some details/change a couple things? idk, we'll see), and it's looking to be somewhere between ten to twenty chapters! It may get a little dark toward the end - we all know how her story ends up. Alrighty then... on with the show!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Warning: mention of sexual assault. Not graphic, but still.**

* * *

Jannali hadn't been looking for trouble.

Later, she would tell a dubious Iolani, "I swear, I was just trying to find Mibs."

Regardless of who - or what - had led her to the little alcove behind the third-floor staircase, Jannali's proverbial goose was, to say the least, cooked.

"You'll have to tell me a bit more than that," Iolani picked up Mibs, dropping down on the windowsill next to her friend.

Jannali took a breath.

* * *

It had been late in the morning, long after Iolani had left for her tutoring session. As Jannali had a diplomatic meeting in the afternoon, she was given the day off and so had resolved to spend her free time in the most productive ways possible.

For the first couple of hours, this worked splendidly. She'd packed her bags for the upcoming journey, snuck into the kitchens to restock her supply of Cheezey Whingers™, and checked to make sure both of her parents were still alive and breathing after the previous night's revelries before she realized that she'd reached her productivity limit.

You see, the problem with productivity is that eventually, one runs out of possibilities and falls into a slump.

It was this slump that Jannali found herself in at noon. Iolani wouldn't be free for two hours, and Jannali had no desire to socialize with, say, Evander Dubrovsky.

Evander Dubrovsky was infamous for his halitosis, disregard of personal space, and collection of old toothbrushes. The incredulous reader may wonder exactly what is meant by this. The answer is simple, of course, as both razors and young users are wont to predict. Evander had come in possession of dozens - perhaps hundreds - of used toothbrushes by carefully scouring old rubbish bins into which they were so heartlessly thrown after their lifespans exceeded their usefulness. What he was planning to do with all of them, nobody quite knew - it is possible nobody wanted to get close enough to ask, as his love for instruments of dental hygiene did not extend to its practice.

Jannali - unsurprisingly - had made the choice to stay in her room and play-wrestle with Mibs over a stuffed mouse she'd made in the aftermath of the Cheezey Whingers™ incident. Mibs, triumphant after a short but vicious tussle, had sprung away with the toy and, to ensure her prize would not be confiscated, promptly hightailed it out of the room.

Jannali had groaned and resigned herself to chasing after the wayward cat.

Unfortunately, the humble house cat, descended from top apex predators some thousands of years prior, never really lost its ability to run like hell. And unfortunately for Jannali, she couldn't have simply walked behind Mibs and waited for her to get tired if she had no clue in which direction Mibs had run. The fact that the Artemisian palace was also by far the largest residential structure on Luna did nothing to improve Jannali's mood.

She would have just left Mibs to blithely disrespect any and every rule and aristocrat Artemisia had to offer, except that she had seen how nasty most of them could be, especially after a night of hard drinking, and wasn't about to let them take it out on her cat.

"To be fair," she had mused aloud, "Mibs could probably beat any of them in a - does glamour work on cats?"

By the time Jannali had finished contemplating the possibilities and searching the hallways of the residential wings, she still hadn't found any sign of her cat.

Grumbling, she'd headed to the ballroom.

It was spotless, which had been surprising, given its state the night before. Jannali had felt a surge of guilt realizing the work that must have gone into it - how late had the servants had to stay up cleaning?

She had been making her way across the room to a curtained nook (a recessed area in the wall that she'd made good use of during social occasions in the past) off to the side, her thoughts scurrying along in this vein when she had heard a distinct, very Mibs-like sound.

Freezing, she had begun tiptoeing toward the curtain, one hand reaching out gently to grip it.

She had pulled it away and come face to face with two sets of eyes instead of one - one pair furious, the other desperately and profoundly broken.

* * *

At this point, Jannali broke off, shuddering and shifting closer to Iolani.

Her friend's tone was soft, but an underlying current of urgency ruined whatever calming effect she intended: "Jannali-"

"I know, I'm getting there."

* * *

Jannali had stood in the entryway, paralyzed by a sudden wave of terror.

A servant - Leda, Jannali had remembered, had been friendly with her and Iolani when they were young - had her back against the wall, the glamour-induced vacancy in her eyes unable to fully hide her desperation and struggle as Marrok stood in front of her.

His hand, Jannali would later remember, had pinned Leda's wrist against the wall, even as it had jerked and wriggled in futile attempts at freedom.

His expression had been one that Jannali would know only all too well in the years to come.

Her lips had opened - to scream? to yell? No harm would befall him, she had known that even then - only for any sound to be forced back down her throat as she felt him enter her mind.

It had been a scene out of her nightmares. Her gaze had locked with Leda's, her repressed scream building till she was sure the pressure would rip her apart.

From the corner of her eye, Jannali had seen a blur of movement. Mibs had launched herself at Marrok's face - claws first, with a look of unadulterated feline rage in her expression.

It soon became abundantly clear that glamour most certainly did not work on cats.

* * *

Jannali buried her face in Mibs' fur, feeling the headache that had been pounding at her temples since the encounter beginning to subside. She felt Iolani wrap her arms around her and leaned into the contact and warmth.

She wanted nothing more than to vanish, to disappear from this hard, unkind world where power equaled cruelty and those without it were nothing but the faceless abused.

Iolani's voice broke through the numb feeling encasing her. "I swear, I will _murder_ that-"

"Lani," Jannali whispered, her words already dissolving into tears, "what if he catches me when my glamour isn't..."

She trailed off, unable to voice the fear that had been digging its way into her heart.

Iolani's arms tightened. "I won't let him do anything to you, or to _anyone else_. You know my gift is stronger than his. I'll make him cut off his-"

She was cut off by an unintelligible whimper from Jannali.

She tried again, "Jannali, you know there's nothing wrong with your glamour."

"There is. You know it, and I know it, and soon he'll know it too. And what if-?"

* * *

At the age of five, Jannali had been given her own personal tutor in order to control her glamour, once it could be identified (and there was no question of that, for an aristocratic child without the gift would be nothing but a disgrace, something that would need to be hidden, and carefully forgotten about).

And it had developed, but not in the way her parents had wished.

Her glamour had waxed and waned in surges. One minute she could manipulate several fully-grown adults, the next, she could barely shift the color of her hair.

Her gift was unpredictable. As she grew older, it became clear that it was not to be relied upon. The most she could consistently do with it was alter her appearance - anything else was subject to some greater being's every wish and whimsy.

Her parents had been outraged. They had fired the tutor, promptly forgotten about any hopes of having a highly-ranking thaumaturge for a daughter, and attempted to erase her from their lives. They acted indifferent to her at best - at worst, hurtful enough that she spent more and more time hiding from them, trying to at once prove her worth and at the same time, that she didn't care.

Her first encounter with Iolani had been ten years prior - at eight years old, when her parents, in a short-lived burst of hopefulness, convinced King Emrys to let her observe his ward while she practiced and trained with her tutor. Even at eight, Iolani had a formidable glamour.

Her strength didn't lie in the force or scale with which her gift manifested, but in its subtlety.

Everyone knew that when manipulated, one could always _feel_ it. One could always feel the disembodied presence there - powerless against its whispers and urgings, one could still struggle, could still despise the the helplessness one felt.

Iolani's glamour was less of a command and more of a suggestion. Hers was a voice so quiet, one found oneself wondering whether it was there at all. It slunk in on soft cat feet, curled up in a shadowed corner, and _stayed_. Long after she'd released a mind, it would find itself circling back to the incident, wondering whether there had been any intrusion at all.

It was this quality that saved Iolani's life - this quality that had kept Emrys from quietly getting rid of her when she became nothing more than a reminder of the lives he'd taken.

Iolani had known that Emrys' welfare could all but vanish whenever he pleased - it was this thought that had driven her to hone and perfect her glamour till it glimmered like a newly-sharpened blade waiting to slip itself gently through flesh and bone.

* * *

Jannali had hidden herself behind Iolani's power - hidden herself as she tried to build up her own glamour bit by broken bit. Her parents, no longer interested in what she did with it, had given her free rein. She had altered her appearance little by little, to the point where she had been able to escape the court's attention and judgement, though it was still nowhere near the sheer power commanded by most of the aristocrats and nobility.

She'd seen the cruelty and thoughtlessness of the court firsthand. How easily they could turn on one another, and how quickly alliances and alignments could be reversed. She'd always known how easy it would be for them to turn on her if they ever found out about her weakness, if they uncovered the sheep so carefully sheathed in wolves' clothing.

She had been drawn to Iolani as a small lost thing - drawn to this wolf while seeking shelter from the pack.

* * *

The nook in the royal balcony was usually reserved for a stupendously ugly vase - one that'd been gifted to the family so long ago it was considered an artifact, and thus could be tastefully covered up by an elaborate tapestry hung over the opening in the name of "historical preservation". This particular night, the vase had been unceremoniously placed inside another, more attractive one. There it would remain for the next few decades, till the tapestry which had once hidden it was taken down for cleaning and the castle practically exploded in an uproar about art thieves and conspiracies. It was discovered in the second vase approximately three weeks later, after multiple private investigators had been hired to find it - without the knowledge of the other. It resulted in a dramatic fight in which both sustained mild bruising and destroyed the vase in the process. It was often overheard that it had been a waste of two thousand lunes, when the same outcome could have been accomplished by throwing it out the window.

The two unthinking perpetrators of this deed had been only twelve at the time. It had been Jannali's idea, and in the excitement of the night, they quickly forgot about any plans they may have had to move it back. The vacated nook was the perfect size for for them, plus a small calico cat who took up much more room than she deserved.

It was Prince Marrok Blackburn's thirteenth birthday, and no expense would be overlooked. The two of them, knowing the number of guests would most certainly be in the hundreds, took the opportunity to discreetly vanish. It was completely justified, Jannali pointed out. Iolani was coming down with a cold, and the least Jannali could do for her was make sure she got better.

Thus, six in the afternoon found them hidden behind the heavy tapestry, bundled in masses of blankets with four boxes of Cheezey Whingers™ within comfortable reaching distance.

The only thing they really needed to worry about (which, in hindsight, probably should have been a bigger concern) was whether or not somebody would notice the whiff of processed cheese hanging ominously over the balcony.

Iolani sniffled and burrowed deeper into the blankets, accidentally kneeing Mibs and getting a sharp hiss in return.

Jannali was alternately trying to avoid writing an essay on Luna's history of relations with the Earthen Union (on a portscreen that she had spent ages modifying in order to get past Luna's admittedly lazy censorship laws) and seeing how many Cheezey Whingers™ she could balance on the bridge of her nose. She was ostentatiously not speaking to Iolani after the latter had sneezed violently (into a tissue, for readers concerned with her hygiene practices) enough to knock over the stack of seven precariously wobbling on Jannali's nose.

"Oh, come on," Iolani's voice rose from the depths of the blankets, "it's not that big of a deal."

"How rude," Jannali pursed her lips. "I haven't even gotten close to seven since then. You've destroyed my life's work. This is a betrayal I never could have dreamt of."

There was a silence as Iolani picked up the neglected portscreen and scrolled through what Jannali had written so far.

"Hey," the author said, suddenly uncomfortably aware that she had been referring to 'rare earth elements' as 'shiny bois' for the past two thousand words, "it's a work in progress, don't look at it."

"You know, I can think of a couple people who'd object to-,"

Iolani was cut off by the heavy tread of footsteps approaching their sheltered haven.

Eyes wide, Jannali froze, glancing uncertainly at Iolani and praying that Mibs didn't have the urge to break out into a hairball-induced coughing fit.

A low voice could be heard, mere feet away now, and moving closer.

"I understand, your Excellence, that Luna's relations with Earth have been under quite a bit of pressure recently."

"Yes, they've been a little on edge after what happened in... Ellistown, was it?"

"Yes, your Excellence."

There was a pause in the conversation, during which Jannali gestured violently at the portscreen Iolani was holding. Several confused gestures later, Jannali snatched it from her friend's hands.

Peering over Jannali's shoulder, Iolani watched as search results for 'Ellistown, Earth' popped up.

The silence which they had been sitting in became heavy and malevolent - the blankets which had been so recently warm and comforting were suddenly stifling as the first headline read: 'Massacre in Ellistown, United Kingdom; Illegal Lunar Psychopath'.

Jannali swallowed hard, trying to push down the choking feeling rising in her throat. She felt Iolani go very still behind her.

The sound of their shaky breaths felt too loud for the confined space. Inhaling no longer provided oxygen.

She clicked the link, already hating herself for it, and scrolled down blindly, not really taking anything in.

The conversation outside had started up again.

"-say that they've been stowing away on cargo ships and trade vessels for years," the low voice (probably a thaumaturge, Jannali guessed) continued.

"Of course we'll be sure to enforce more stringent security measures," King Emrys replied, "and quite frankly, it's disgusting that any Lunar would want to taint their legacy by living amongst Earthens."

Jannali glanced at Iolani, whose expression of confusion mirrored her own.

"Additionally," Emrys' voice seemed to be moving even closer, "we must discuss the matter of trade."

"Earthen countries are eager to get their hands on regolith because of the abundance of rare earth elements in its composition, your Excellence."

Taking a shuddering breath in, Jannali tore her gaze from the article, her stomach churning, and switched focus to her essay, fingers poised to take notes. _Perfect,_ she thought, _primary sources, much?_

Emrys sounded amused. "This is the first they've realized? After decades upon decades during which we've built our entire society on the backs of elements like these?"

"There has always been limited contact between us-" the thaumaturge began.

"Of course, and for good reason."

The footsteps started back up again and steadily faded as the two girls looked at each other, eyes wide.

* * *

Jannali's hiccuping sobs came to a quiet end. Iolani held her tightly, their tears mingling on cheeks pressed close together.

"I don't even know what's going to happen to her, Lani-"

"Who?"

"The girl Marrok-"

"Oh."

"I want," Jannali turned her head to look Iolani in the eye, "to make sure he never touches her - no, never even _sees_ her again."

"How did you get away?" Iolani asked, brushing her thumb lightly under Jannali's eye where telltale tears still lingered.

"Pretty much everybody came rushing in at once, so I apologized to every single person I could and then grabbed Mibs and ran. I saw Leda slip out while everyone was busy, too."

"We should find her," Iolani sat up, "maybe ask her if she has anywhere to go. You know, help her get out of here."

"You really think she'll trust us?" Jannali asked, "I know I'd be a little wary if the king's ward and one of the Lunar diplomats came to me saying they wanted to help."

"I don't know if she'll trust us, but you're right. We should check on her. I want to make sure she's okay."

Jannali nodded in silent agreement and stood, brushing cat hairs off her dress. After warning Mibs not to leave the room - though she didn't seem inclined to, being practically asleep - the two girls set off to find Leda.

* * *

Approximately a quarter of an hour had passed, and no sign of Leda had been uncovered. Of course, this had been a very distinct possibility from the start, as they'd begun with no real plan other than to wander throughout the palace - perhaps not the wisest of ideas.

"If it were I hiding," Jannali said finally, "I know I'd find myself in the menagerie."

Iolani looked mildly surprised. The menagerie was an oft-frequented destination for Artemisian aristocrats. Exactly how the animals had been brought from Earth, neither of the two knew. It had been one of the first things Cyprus Blackburn had done when he wrested power from the Republic of Luna, and had lasted ever since.

"I would hide in that little back area, you know? The one that leads out to the gardens?" Jannali made a series of vague hand motions and looked expectantly at her friend.

A beat of silence informed her that Iolani was at a loss.

"With the peacocks," she added helpfully.

"Oh," Iolani wrinkled her nose, "but the peacocks are so mean."

"Exactly," Jannali beamed, "so no one else ever goes there."

Laughing, Iolani acquiesced. "Alright, let's go to the menagerie. Be warned though: I will use you as a shield if I get attacked."

Grumbling, Jannali led the way.

The menagerie was eerily quiet. The girls took a moment to peer through the bars of the wolf's cage. It was one of the largest ones in the building, yet woefully inadequate for the creature inside.

Kali paced back and forth, a presence too big for such a small enclosure. She rubbed up against the bars, a weary hunger in her eyes for a pack she no longer knew. As children, the two girls had spent long hours in front of her enclosure, trying to win her trust. Now she allowed them to gently stroke her fur, bring her treats, and toss large sticks inside her - she practically considered them her own small, hairless pups.

When they were little, they'd have hushed, excited conversations about daring plans to rescue Kali and send her back to Earth - she was one of the few creatures in the menagerie who hadn't been born in captivity, as Cyprus Blackburn had decided to keep only one wolf at a time (despite their pack lifestyles, as he didn't care much for what they needed, only that they were _things_ he would be known for having). None of these plots really managed to answer how one might smuggle a two-meter-long canid onto a supply ship, or whether the members of her old pack would be alive.

Even now, the two referred to it as their master plan, carving out tiny places in their hearts that held secret hopes.

Saying goodbye to Kali, they made their way out the back entrance into the gardens, where they were immediately subjected to the judgement of half a dozen peafowl.

"I can't help but feel as though they're always disappointed in me," Iolani observed, shifting slightly so as to be more concealed from their view by her friend.

"Oh yes, I have many things in common with them," Jannali replied.

Her friend swatted her indignantly.

Giving the peacocks a wide berth, they walked quietly down an unkempt path.

A soft sob alerted them to someone else's presence. Jannali turned, trying to locate the source of the sound, then stumbled slightly and winced.

Her ankle was still sore, and all this walking from place to place (she blamed Mibs) had taken its toll on it.

Attempting to sidestep a bush that extended into the path, her ankle gave way, deciding suddenly that enough was enough. Jannali crashed through the bush, disrupting its many exoskeleton-bearing residents, flipped head over heels in a feat worthy of applause, and found herself face-to-face with a shocked, tearstained face.

Trying to salvage what dignity remained, she tried to flip over, but found out the hard way that several clumps of her hair were well and truly tangled in some stray twigs.

"Hey, Leda," she said, resigning herself to lying awkwardly on the ground to minimize pain, "anything we can do for you?"

* * *

It had taken the combined efforts of the three of them to sort Jannali out again. By the time they were finished, Leda looked considerably less tearstained, and Jannali privately thanked the stars that her embarrassing mishap had been a worthy one after all. It also seemed to have convinced Leda that they didn't mean any harm.

"Do you need to talk about it, Leda?" Jannali asked.

"Or be distracted from it?" Iolani added.

Leda shrugged, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I'm not sure I really want to think about it any more. It just makes me feel... disgusting. And scared, too. I don't want to have to stay here and worry about it all the time."

"Do you have anywhere you can go?" Jannali asked. "Because I can't imagine Marrok will react well."

Pulling her knees in close to her chest, Leda said in a low voice, "I know he's just biding his time."

Iolani reached out, placing her hand gently on Leda's arm. "I promise he won't do anything. We'll do whatever we can to get you out of here and to your family."

"My family left the outer sector where they lived years ago," the girl shook her head, "they're not on Luna anymore."

Jannali's eyes widened. "They live on Earth?"

Leda nodded. "They said they were going to a place called Farafrah."

"They just left you behind?" Iolani's brow wrinkled in confusion.

There was a slight pause, where Leda sighed. It was a deeply sorrowful sound, one that evoked a feeling of desperate weariness, of numbing melancholy.

"My father was sick. Really sick. We didn't know what it was, but we knew he wouldn't get any treatment for it."

Another endless pause, swallowing up even the noises of the peacocks nearby.

"I told them to go. They didn't want to, but I thought..." Leda looked uncertainly at Jannali, "I thought maybe they would be able to get help there. So they stowed away on a cargo ship that was headed to Farafrah."

"I'm so sorry, Leda-" Iolani started.

"Don't be sorry," she shook her head, "I just hope he's doing better."

"Well," Iolani said, the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind, "what if we get you there?"

"Yeah," said Jannali, catching on, "the summit is going to be in Cairo, the African Union's capital. We can see how far it is from Farafrah and come up with some sort of plan."

Leda looked doubtful. "You're going to hide me in the ship they're going to transport all of the diplomats and royals in? I think that's easier said than done."

Iolani shook her head, "To be honest, usually they're pretty lax about security when it comes to the court. Because, you know, they pretty much control the guards. It's not like they search the things most courtesans bring - some of them bring stuff that's _technically_ illegal but no one wants to point it out."

"If you want to do this," Jannali said, "you should stick with Lani. Her glamour is stronger than mine, and we're better safe than sorry in this case."

Nodding, Iolani told Leda, "It's all your choice - I get that this probably sounds insane. And probably not the best of plans. But if you want..."

Leda sighed. "It does sound insane. And like it doesn't have a huge chance of success. But I just want to get away from him. I can't deal with constantly being worried that he'll find me again, because I know he will."

"Alrighty then," Jannali stood and immediately regretted it, grabbing wildly at Iolani's shoulder to keep from tipping over.

Laughing, the other two pushed themselves off the ground.

"Come with us to Jannali's bedroom," Iolani offered, "she can fake a vomiting spell and get out of the diplomatic meeting she has in half an hour."

Jannali grumbled. "The less I have to see Theon Mira's face, the better."

"Won't you miss out on important information?" Leda asked cautiously.

"Nah," Jannali shook her head, "it's gonna be half an hour of Mira ranting about how all Earthens hate Lunars and how they want us to sign their treaty so they can disarm us and then wage war on us."

"That sounds like an overreaction," Leda said as they began the walk back to the room, Jannali with an arm wrapped around each of the others for stability.

"Yeah, no kidding," Iolani snorted.

"Let's go back through the servant quarters," Leda suggested, "because bumping into Marrok at this point would really suck."

* * *

Safely ensconced in the aforementioned bedroom, Jannali set about faking a sudden vomiting spell.

After doing a series of fifty jumping jacks, twenty-five squats, and fifteen mountain climbers, she examined her appearance to gauge how flushed she looked.

Motioning for Iolani and Leda to hide, she called a servant to the room and asked if they would pretty please tell Ambassador Theon Mira that she'd just had a sudden bout of queasiness and, unfortunately, a stomach upset.

"I don't think," she said, "it'd be wise for me to attend the meeting. Please offer my sincere apologies."

With this missive in mind (and the fifteen lunes Jannali had snuck them shoved hastily into their pocket), the servant set out.

Shutting the door and locking it quietly, Jannali turned around to see Iolani and Leda emerge from the closet, along with a disgruntled Mibs.

"Why was Mibs in there?" she asked.

"No idea," Iolani said, "it is not up to us to question the actions of Moira Hildegard Bartle-"

"Alright, alright," Jannali grumbled, "no need for all that."

Mibs cuddled up to Leda, purring madly when she received several chin scratches.

"Why," Leda asked, "is she called Mibs?"

"We wanted a really fancy name for her-" Jannali began.

"Because she deserves it," Iolani broke in.

"She does _not_ ," Jannali said indignantly. "Anyway, it was a bit unwieldy for two eleven-year-olds, so we decided to shorten it."

"It's almost an acronym," Iolani said, "M - I (instead of 'H' because we didn't want to have three consonants in a row) - B - S (for 'the seventh')."

"I see," said Leda in the tone of voice that perhaps suggested that one did see, but was wishing one didn't.

Jannali felt this was all getting quite off track. "What exactly is our plan?"

"There are three ships leaving tomorrow," Iolani said, "and I'll be leaving on the royal ship with Marrok and King Emrys, so I think it wouldn't be the best idea to have Leda hiding with me."

"That's a good point," Jannali said, "I'm sure you don't want to run into him by accident."

Leda shuddered.

"So she could maybe hide with you?" Iolani looked at Jannali.

"Well..." she was hesitant. "I don't know whether that's a good idea. If we get caught, it'd be better for her to be with you because your glamour actually works."

There was a pause during which Leda looked from one to the other, and Iolani frowned.

"Please, Iolani," Jannali said, "I just don't want to pin this all on the possibility that my glamour will work."

Her friend sighed. "Let me ask King Emrys if I can trade places with one of the diplomats on your ship."

"I'm sure Mira would love that," Jannali rolled her eyes.

"How do you feel about that, Leda?" Iolani asked.

Leda shrugged, "I'd definitely feel better if I weren't on the same ship as Marrok, but what's the deal with your gifts?"

"Iolani's glamour is way more powerful than mine," Jannali said, "and honestly, it's kind of a toss up every time I try to use it, in terms of whether it'll work or not."

"Should I go look for King Emrys now?" Iolani asked.

"Sure," Jannali nodded, "the meeting will probably be finishing up soon."

"Okay then, I'll go talk to him. Can you guys think of a way we can keep Leda safe?"

"Will do," Jannali saluted her. Leda waved as Iolani slipped out the door quietly.

Locking the door behind her friend, Jannali scooped Mibs off the dresser where she'd been dangerously close to chewing experimentally on a wooden brush.

"I don't think it'd be comfortable for you to be hidden in a suitcase," she said.

"No kidding," Leda shuddered.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Jannali asked. "That would probably complicate things."

Leda shook her head. "Are there people other than diplomats on your ship?"

"There'll definitely be plenty of guards," Jannali pondered, "and there will probably be other servants, too."

"I could always pose as one of them to get on the ship and then hide somewhere."

"Yeah, we're supposed to have rooms on the ship, so you could probably stay there. And then when we get to the Lunar embassy, we'll look into your family and arrange, like, a sightseeing trip that'll take us near Farafrah so you can meet your family there."

Leda laughed, "I guess that means we'll figure most of it out as we go."

"Probably not the best plan," Jannali agreed, "but we'll figure it out."

In the comfortable silence that followed their laughter, footsteps could be heard making their way down the hall.

Jannali narrowed her eyes in suspicion, lifting a finger to her lips when Leda began to ask what was wrong.

Iolani's footsteps were much lighter than these.

The footsteps continued, moving ever closer - close enough that Jannali motioned urgently for Leda to hide. She slipped quietly in the armoire as Jannali took up a position behind the door, listening carefully.

The noises stopped in front of her.

There was a silence.

Three precisely timed knocks rang out, hollow sounding in the nervous anticipation filling the room.

This was most certainly not Iolani.

Jannali's face was flushed with the possibility of discovery. She attempted to swiftly dishevel her appearance to give weight to her claim of a bout of stomach sickness.

She opened the door a crack, and nearly screamed.

Marrok's lips curled up into a smile.

"Surprise," he said.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh boy. I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait, you guys. I hope you liked this! It's the lovely wavingthroughawindow's birthday chapter (props for putting up with my incessant questions), even if it's a little late. I've kind of fleshed out where I want this to go , but it's taking me in several unexpected directions. It might be a while till I put up chapter three, because I'll be trying to get a hold of the plot. So in the meantime, enjoy this 5k word vomit that took me three months to write. Whoops.**


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